


Delight Made Easy

by katajainen



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Durincest, Established Relationship, Multi, Not enough plot to fill a thimble, POV Fíli, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short One Shot, Sibling Incest, Smut, Threesome, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8797864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: The bedroom is finally set up, and the bed is lush and plush and eminently comfortable.Kíli thinks the mattress needs breaking in. And there are only so many ways you can interpret that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now, I could blame mithrilbikini. But while [the pic she made is really cute and pretty innocent](http://mithrilbikini.tumblr.com/post/154192565487/happy-incredibly-belated-birthday-pangur), it took **me** maybe a 3-second look to start imaging full-on NSFW things...
> 
> What it says on the tin. No plot, lots of porn. Heavy on durincest, woops...
> 
> (And after _[Heart of the Library](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6963574/chapters/15876235)_ I swore I was done with writing smut with more than two people, but so much for swearing.)
> 
>  **ETA** : So I did forget to put durincest in the tags after having put it in the notes... sorry!

In Fíli’s defense, the day had been long and their bedroom _finally_ had all the furniture brought in. It was far too easy, then, to slip from sitting on the bed to leaning into Ori’s legs, to lying with his head in Ori’s lap, listening to Kíli talk while gentle fingers combed through his hair.

It was not like he found Kíli’s new project boring – quite the contrary – but he was simply so fabulously _comfortable_.

He felt someone poke him on the side, once, then twice. ‘Fee?’

‘Don’t wake him.’

‘... not sleeping.’ Blinking, Fíli pushed himself up. ‘What?’

‘I was saying that the new mattress needs breaking in.’ Kíli bounced up and down where he was kneeling on the bed, grinning. ‘What do you say?’

‘I say you’re too old to be jumping on the bed.’

‘Never,’ his brother laughed, ‘but that’s _not_ what I meant.’

Fíli saw the glance and hint of a smile that passed between his husbands, but before he had the time to interpret it he was wrestled back into the mattress, and there were lips on his and dark hair all over his face. Then he was gasping into the kiss as another pair of hands went diving under his shirt and found bare skin.

‘So,’ said Kíli into the inch of air between their faces, ‘want to go back to sleep?’

‘No–’, and he felt Ori, lips breath and tongue, trace a line into his skin just where his breeches stopped. ‘Get back here.’ And he plunged his fingers into Kíli’s hair, the kiss deeper, more urgent this time, one of Kíli’s hands cupping his face, the other slipping down his chest to pull his shirt up and slowly, oh so slowly pinch and roll a nipple.

Ori was easing his breeches off, seemingly, inch at a time, and then he was back up kissing and nibbling the soft tender crease of skin right at the top of his thigh, the spot that was so sweet but not quite close enough, strong hands pinning Fíli’s hips to the bed. ‘Tease,’ he bit off, and grasped Ori’s hand. ‘Enough already.’

‘You think?’ The lamplight cast a soft flame of copper around Ori’s face as he looked up, and then Fíli was gripping tight on the fingers wound between his, unable to let go of Ori’s gaze as he swallowed him up. It was all he could do not to thrust up into the soft slick heat slipping moving over him, held in place by a single hand over his hip, the thumb brushing softly back and forth over the bone.

He gasped and swore at the cold air on wet heated skin as Ori released him, and gently nudged him to roll over. ‘Please?’ But he went, oh how he went eagerly, guided by the hands on his sides and hips, by the kisses nuzzled onto his tailbone, Ori’s breath following so very warm after each press of lips.

Fíli moaned into the pillows at the first stroke of fingers on the sensitive skin on the inside of his cleft, smoothing down, pulling apart almost too slow and gentle for him to bear. He bucked and cursed at the first touch of tongue at his entrance, hands fisting tight into the coverlet.

‘The sight the two of you make.’ Kíli’s breath was warm on his ear, his kisses more so, trailing down the back of his neck as far down as the neckline of Fíli’s shirt allowed. His hand stroked down his back, right down to where the shirt was riding up, and Fíli shivered under the smooth slow weight of the caress. When Kíli swept the hair off his face, he turned his head for a kiss.

It felt like a small eternity of being pulled apart by Ori’s mouth and hands shaping pleasure out of his skin and flesh as if they were sculptor’s clay, every fragment of a moan swallowed up in kisses, every shift of his hips dragging his arousal against the weave of the coverlet, every crease and fold of the cloth catching on his skin so that it felt a size too small to contain his heartbeat. Then it stopped.

‘I’ll be a moment.’

The bed shifted, but the carpet swallowed any footsteps. His cock was throbbing trapped underneath him, the cleft of his arse wet and tingling. But stretched out beside him was his brother, his husband, in nothing but his skin. Kíli who pulled the too-warm shirt off him, met kiss with a kiss, embrace with an embrace, sighed when Fíli traced the inked lines of his shoulder with fingers and mouth and whimpered so sweetly under him when Fíli ground against him.

Another shift of the mattress, and a gentle hand sliding down the small of his back. ‘Fíli?’ A low voice, sweet and thick with want.

‘Please,’ he replied, his knees shifting apart on their own, pushing Kíli’s thighs with them, an involuntary stutter of his hips slipping their lengths together in this new angle, Kíli’s low broken sob caught between their mouths.

One finger, smooth and slick, nothing but the easy slide, and the sharp spark of pleasure kindling to flame within him, the soft kiss at the small of his back a question as much as a caress, as much as his ‘yes’ was both an affirmation and appreciation.

More fingers and the ‘yes’ became a moan into Kíli’s shoulder, became a chant breathed onto salt-tasting skin as he rocked against him where he was hard and velvety-smooth, his pleasure stoked to bright heat by sure relentless hands holding him, stroking into him, mouths tracing his neck, the curve of his shoulder, down his spine.

But it was only so close to what he needed. ‘Stop,’ he meant to say, ‘wait.’ Everything was suddenly still, but for the stuttering leaping bounds of his heart, the irregular heave of three breaths under the velvet blue canopy. He turned to look over his shoulder as far as he could. ‘Ori? Please. Enough already, please. I’m good. I _want_ you. Please?’ As each word tumbled from him, Kíli’s hands moved on him again, swift  fingers caressing slow tingling trails down his back and his sides, tight curling spirals whirling on top of his arse, first clockwise, then counter. Then gripped him tight, pulling him wide and open and closer and sweet Mahal below but _yes_. He leaned his forehead against Kíli’s, weight on his elbows, drinking their shared breath in small shallow gulps, and Ori eased into him easy and slow.

‘Good?´ The hands on his hips shifted, sliding into place, and Fíli’s ‘yes’ stuttered when Kíli thrusted up and up against him, nails digging into the skin of his arse. Time was lost in the rise and fall of one breath and the next.

He became as if iron between hammer stroke and anvil then, pushed by one against the pull of the other, his own pleasure rippling bubbling a molten pit of heat low in his gut until he could dam it no longer, until it came spilling over in a one sharp downswing, his rhythm falling and breaking as he cried out, gripping onto the sheets with fingers and toes. And then again, a harsh sound ripped from him at the sudden hard fast snap of Ori’s last thrusts into him.

It was Kíli who spoke first over the backdrop of their slowing hearts, just as Fíli’s arms were starting to tremble from trying not to collapse on top of him. ‘Fíli–’ he pushed at his chest– ‘off me, you heavy lout. I need… I need a breath.’

‘I’ll show you heavy…’ Fíli muttered as the three of them disentangled, but was stopped dead by the sight of Kíli drawing a shuddering gulp of air with his head thrown back, grasping himself with a desperate rush. Fíli pressed a kiss at his collarbone instead, catching Ori mirroring him on Kíli’s other side, and slipped a hand down to caress his stones, to fondle and stroke at the nearly-smooth patch of skin behind, and felt the faintest afterthought of lust stir within him when his brother trembled and came undone between them.

It was later, and later meant lamps blown out and pleasure-soft naked bodies holding and being held in a warm nest of blankets and pillows.

‘That’s what I call a bed broken in.’ said someone.

‘Shut up and sleep.’ said another.

‘I love you.’ said a third.


End file.
